


SMTS

by notsugarandspice



Series: We Aim to Please [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Eddie's pov, Friends to Lovers, M/M, NSFW, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reddie, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsugarandspice/pseuds/notsugarandspice
Summary: Eddie comes to visit Richie during the winter break and helps him finally get some rest.





	SMTS

**Author's Note:**

> This might have some errors - I apologize. I tried to edit it as much as I could, but a girl needs her sleep too, ok? 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy <3

“I already told you what time I’m landing, have you been listening at all?” Eddie’s irritation was growing by the minute, and he was genuinely reconsidering making the trip.

“Jeez Louise, would you chill? I’ve been trying to find a notepad for the past ten minutes of this conversation, and all you do is scream at me. All your one night stands probably stick their dick in your yapping hole as soon as you make it to the bedroom.”

“That’s fucking rude even for your trashy mouth. You’re just jealous anyway.”

“Now you’re just being mean. You can take an uber then.”

“Richieeeeee,” whined Eddie, his patience about as thin as Bill’s hair.

“Okay, wait, fuck.” Eddie heard a loud thud through the speakers of his cellphone.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Sure you want to know?”

“I fucking asked, you know.” Eddie was sure Richie _heard_ him roll his eyes. 

“I know you rolled your eyes,” _bingo,_ “it was my laptop. Guess who needs to buy a new one!”

“What in fucking god’s name happened for you to drop it?”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I haven’t kissed my mother since I was fucking ten years old. I only talk like this around you, you know." 

“Bullsheeeeaaat.” 

“All one thousand percent of a hot steaming dump of truth. It must be your influence.”

“There’s no such thing as a thousand percent, and your mouth was literal _trash_ even before we became friends. You literally screamed _FUCK_ when Betty tried to kiss you in third grade.”

“For fuck’s sake, she was a _girl_ ,” Richie snorted at the obvious disgust in Eddie’s voice. “I couldn’t even get off on Playboy’s photos in middle school because all I wanted to see is _dick, dick, dick_ , and tits didn’t impress me one bit.” Richie was laughing loud now, and Eddie’s grin was wider than a Cheshire cat.

“Eds, if you ever get gayer, all the rainbows will merge into one and plant themselves on top of your head.”

“How poetic.” _God, I miss that fucking idiot._

“Anyway, what time are you landing again?”

_Whatever it is up there, please give me strength._

  

* * *

 

  

Eddie’s hatred for flying can only be matched to the level at which Stan hates peanut butter mixed with bananas. He shut the tiny window closed as soon as the stewardess stopped making rounds and shut his eyes painfully. The grip he had on the armrest made his knuckles go white, and the rather overweight woman next to him was eyeing him suspiciously. He just texted Richie that he was taking off and turned the phone off before the other sent something inappropriate for the woman to glare at.

The flight was about 80% turbulence, and 20% Eddie trying to squeeze through the woman’s sleeping form to take a piss. Since he didn’t get to go, he sprinted to the closest restroom to the gate, not even stopping to hear what belt is going to throw his suitcase up. He texted Richie that he landed sitting on the toilet because he _still_ considered urinals disgusting.

He saw Richie standing by the belt as he was descending the escalator, and he may or may not have pushed an elderly man out of the way to jump into his best friend’s arms. Richie’s laugh filled the echoing underground floor, and he held onto Eddie’s ass because the other affectionately wrapped his thighs around Richie’s waist.

“My Spaghetti,” said Richie with more warmth than Eddie expected, burying his face in Eddie’s overgrown curls.

“God, I fucking missed you so much.” Eddie was holding back happy tears.

“I believe that’s literally the first time you’ve ever said anything nice to me.” Richie’s grin shifted some of Eddie’s hair, and he wanted to _scream_ how happy he was.

“Fuck off.” Eddie nuzzled into Richie’s neck, and the scent of his lemon aftershave was making the small boy feel things he’d rather not talk about.

“Aaaand there he is,” said Richie pulling back a little to look at Eddie’s face.

“Hey, where are your glasses?” asked Eddie, pushing a spot between Richie’s eyebrows.

“I didn’t want them to come in the way.” _Why is this fucking dick smirking?_

“In the way of what, dickwad?”

“Of me getting down on your sexy ass.” Eddie swears the other’s eyes darkened, but he can't even say. They always joked around about shit like that.

Eddie slaps his cheek delicately. “I hate you.” But he is holding onto Richie’s neck and biting his thumb. _Oh, I know how this looks._

Richie gently puts him down, and Eddie sees something flash in his dark brown eyes, something he didn’t understand. 

“Where is your pink suitcase, Aurora?”

“Oh, fuck off. I shouldn’t have told you _Sleeping Beauty_ is my favorite movie.” Eddie shoves him affectionately and goes closer to the belt. He just noticed that _dozens_ of people were giving them knowing glances and his stomach flipped.

They only waited about five minutes during which Richie mostly complained about LA traffic and how there were some random girls who jumped in front of him to take a selfie. Eddie almost punched him and said he complained too much about being YouTube famous. Richie said that his views would go up if Eddie recorded something with him, at which the small boy almost left the building. Two of them eventually made it back to the garage, stuffing Eddie’s (blue) suitcase in the cramped back of Richie’s 1970 Mustang.

“Where the fuck did you even get this?” asks Eddie in poorly hidden fascination. He always had a thing for cars. _More like an unhealthy obsession._

“Let’s just say my mouth worked extra hard for this one,” says Richie, slapping the top of the red car.

“You’re insufferable,” says Eddie, walking to stand right in front of Richie.

“What?”

“I hope you don’t expect me to let you drive me,” says Eddie, crossing his arms.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Richie mockingly copies the small boy’s gesture. _Oh, it_ _’_ _s fucking ON._

“It means that I want to get home in one piece and you’re not Schumacher.”

“There’s not a dent on this baby,” says Richie, rubbing the top of the car affectionately.

Eddie stood his ground. “I’d rather walk.”

Richie groans loud enough for the whole garage to hear. “Fiiiiine. But we’re stopping by In-N-Out.”

“Fuck yeah!” Richie smiled wide at the other’s excitement.

  

 

* * *

 

  

Eddie let Richie drive the five minutes from In-N-Out because he could’ve _died_ waiting to eat the heavenly grease. His heart might hate him by the time he’s sixty, but his stomach was _waaaay_ too happy to give a shit. And he was in the same car as Richie. Things were just too good. And it’s not like he’d ever admit to what it made him feel to see Richie smoke out of the window with his right wrist dripped over the wheel. _Oh god._

It’s been several hours, and they were now watching a new episode of _The Grand Tour,_ both drooling over a grey _Aston Martin_ and Richard Hammond. Richie kept teasing Eddie that it’s how he’s going to look like in his late forties and Eddie was trying to prove that Hammond was _goals_.

“Riiiiich,” whines Eddie, his plea for attention making the other boy chuckle.

“Mm?” Richie’s legs are tangled in Eddie’s, and the small boy pushed his toes above Richie’s knees, up the other’s inner thighs making him jump up a little.

Eddie giggles. “I’m hungry.” Eddie knew his eyes said _it_ _’_ _s not fucking food I_ _’_ _m hungry for, you dick._

The other visibly swallows. “Alright. Wanna make pasta?”

To say that Eddie was in the _mood_ is to say nothing at all. He was having one of those days when absolutely everything seemed like an aphrodisiac, and it didn’t help one bit that Richie was there. But his thoughts of Richie were for lonely late night thoughts and wandering hands under his boxers – not 6pm on a Saturday in the middle of a kitchen. _His kitchen._ But then again, Richie _was_ responsible for Eddie’s inappropriate thoughts, so it’s not that he could help it. At all.

Eddie was heating up the store-bought tomato sauce in one of the small saucers, occasionally adding more spices and parmesan, trying to save the generic tomato mush. Richie was busy trying to connect a Beats Pill to his phone that was dumped on the ground more than any other piece of technology in the world. _No wonder his Bluetooth connection is shit._

He does eventually succeed, and the entire apartment is enveloped in Tove Lo’s smooth seducing sounds, and if _that_ doesn’t make Eddie more keen. He’s in full overdrive now, stirring the sauce with a wooden spoon, hips swaying and curls bobbing to the tempting sounds. He can imagine the feel of Richie’s long fingers on his hips, and it’s driving him _insane,_ and he almost sticks his head in the freezer to _cool the fuck down._

Eddie can’t tell if Richie is oblivious, but he tries to put on a show, knowing well that even if the other didn’t want to _fuck_ him, he sure as hell would flirt back. _Lady Wood_ is playing, and Eddie can’t even stand still anymore – it’s as if Richie can hear his thoughts without meaning to. He makes his way to the tall boy who’s slumped over the bar counter, scrolling through the playlist. He looks up to look at Eddie, and the small boy extends a wooden spoon for him to taste, and Richie doesn’t hesitate for a second, grabbing onto Eddie’s wrist and licking off the red sauce. It might be Richie’s unwavering dark eyes that make Eddie’s balls heavy as lead, but he wants to _whine_ , that’s how ridiculously needy he is.

But Eddie just smirks and goes back to the stove but he can _feel_ Richie’s eyes on him, and it’s _intoxicating,_ makes his head heavy and light at the same time. The small boy keeps dancing and sipping on the mug with red wine and it’s not helping _at all,_ everything is electrified, and Richie is a foot away, scrolling through his phone casually. _How dare he._

Richie isn’t a fan of red wine but buys it anytime Eddie visits because he knows there’s literally nothing else Eddie would put in his mouth. _Amongst other things._ Testing his best friend’s allegiance and boosting his ego at the same time, Eddie pours another glass of red wine and slides the Gomer mug through the bar counter towards Richie. The boy takes a whiff looking at Eddie and makes a ‘are you fucking kidding me’ face. But then Eddie pouts and gets very close to the other’s face, and suddenly Richie is red, and Eddie thinks he’d drink piss out of there to please him. His ego does a satisfied backflip.

_Heart-Shaped Box_ is playing, and Eddie knows he is done for. Because Nirvana is Richie’s weakness and he starts dancing, swaying his hips, his black hair bobbing, and _christ almighty, turn me straight now before I blow him in this kitchen._ Eddie really tries to distract himself but Richie’s arms are suddenly trapping him against the stove from both sides, and then there’s that lemon scent again, going through his nose straight to the veins of his dick. Richie is bumping his head against Eddie’s hair in sync with the drums, and the motion is resonating in the small boy’s groin painfully, and he can’t stop his head from thinking pure _filth._

Now it’s PARTYNEXTDOOR and _1942_ is going through the speakers, and it’s Eddie’s turn to struggle with holding back the seductive movement of his hips. But Richie is still there, his hands propped against the railing of the stove, and Eddie takes a tiny break from mixing the sauce to turn around and face the other boy, sipping on the red wine in his mug. His eyes don’t leave Richie’s as the singer purrs ‘get sexy for me’, and there is nothing innocent about their position, absolutely nothing friendly about it. But Eddie hasn’t acted on his _raging_ desire for Richie since he started thinking about him in 7th grade, so why start now?

_Oh, he_ _’_ _s licking his lips, the fucker._ It’s like Richie knows the things that make Eddie’s dick jump up in excitement. Eddie is eyeing him from behind the rim of the cup, downing the second glass quickly and his head is pleasantly heavy, and Richie is suddenly even more desirable than before. More than ever. Eddie wants to say that the air around them is heavy, but it’s nearly _suffocating_ _–_ that’s how intense the other boy’s stare is, how the music makes their chests throb and the smell of spices clings to their skin, and Eddie wants to _lick_ it off Richie.

And it’s so obvious, how much they want each other, but neither does anything, so Eddie finally puts the mug down. He shuts the gas off, eyes still locked with Richie’s, and then grabs his hand, leading him to the edge of the kitchen, not wanting to leave the pleasant smell of food yet. The other follows him lazily as if he’s not entirely in control of his body, and Eddie instantly drops on his knees and he half-expects the other to push him off in shock, but he just stares, body frozen and expression unreadable. Eddie grabs onto his hands and leans forward, biting into the red Henley and tugging it towards him. Richie’s grip tightens considerably but he doesn’t speak, and Eddie _loves_ it. _I made this idiot shut up. Fucking finally._

Eddie looks straight at Richie’s crotch, and it’s bulging, his ego is _squealing;_ at least he knows that his hip swaying produced some sort of an effect. And then Eddie noticed that the zipper on Richie’s light blue jeans is down, and he _knows_ that making a joke out of this situation would either make or break the tension, but he doesn’t care because it’s the perfect opportunity. He gently slides the zipper up, barely touching the other’s hard on but he still feels Richie shudder. He holds back a cackle and stands up, trying to make his expression as calm as possible.

“Your zipper was down,” says Eddie nonchalantly and goes back to the counter by the stove to pour himself more wine.

If he’s right about Richie wanting him, he’ll grab him in less than a minute and carry him straight to the bedroom. Or if he _really_ wants him, they won’t make it past the kitchen. Eddie is done pouring wine into his cup and goes to the bar counter to fill Richie’s. He doesn’t look at his best friend, but he sees from the corner of his eye that he is literally frozen on the spot, and Eddie wants to giggle but doesn’t want to make it obvious that he was just kidding around. That he _does_ want to go down on him. But then he takes a sip and leans on the counter, waiting for Richie’s action aaaaand, _bingo,_ the tall boy takes two large steps and hoists Eddie up under the ass to place him on the counter.

And, of course, Tinashe’s _Ride of Your Life_ starts playing, and his mug almost crashes onto the floor, most of the red wine spilling between their torsos. Eddie wants to laugh so hard it hurts: he _didn_ _’_ _t_ carry him to the bedroom or even the couch. _Oh, he has it bad._ Eddie stifles a loud giggle by pinching his thumb between his teeth, and he almost breaks when he sees Richie’s practically black eyes staring at his mouth, and his dick sings with happiness.

But then Eddie’s mouth finds it hard to smile because one of Richie’s hands is so high on his thigh that it almost, _almost_ touches his dick, and he wants to slap him for making him suffer like that. Richie removes Eddie’s hand from his mouth, dips his thumb in a pool of wine collected on his collarbone, and starts sucking on it. _Oh. My. God._

And it’s no goo-goo, imitating a toddler sucking. It’s _this is just a foreplay for your dick_ kind of sucking. Eddie’s confidence is suddenly wavering because he was in no way ready for the bodily response he’s currently getting. It’s one thing to fantasize about Richie and to flirt with him shamelessly for ten years, but it’s _nothing,_ absolutely _nothing_ compared to how his stomach, head, and dick feel at the moment. And that asshole is still sucking, his long tongue licking around and on top of his thumb, and Eddie has _never_ been this hard in his entire life.

Richie releases his thumb with a pop and looks back at Eddie with an amused expression as if he’s holding back saying something that will ruin it all. But’s he’s _Richie,_ so he does it anyway.

“I think my zipper’s down again, can you check?” he asks, and drops his chin down to look at his own crotch and Eddie can tell that he’s barely holding his grin back.

And it should’ve shattered this palpable energy between them, should’ve made it all into a wine-drunk laugh, but Eddie was determined to get laid _dammit,_ and not with just anyone, but he chose this absolute piece of a dork to do it. So he decided to stick with his plan and smirked back because he knew his mouth would betray him if he opened it to speak.

Instead, he puts an index finger under Richie’s chin to knock that stupid strained smile off his face. The tall boy’s eyes are now stuck on Eddie’s, and it is  _hard to breathe_ , let alone think of a next move. Through a haze of pure sinful thoughts, Eddie bends around Richie’s face and licks a stripe right along his collarbone to remove any remaining red wine from it. Oh, and if red wine was his favorite drink before, combining it with the taste of Richie’s skin made him want to _bathe_ in it. 

Richie’s hands are holding Eddie’s thighs for dear life, and the small boy knows the effect he’s having on him. Somehow, he knows he should stop since they have never talked about this unspoken ‘fuck me senseless’ tension, but he’s unable to utter any human language at the moment. His brain has tuned in to Richie’s radio hour, and _boy_ was he about to listen to it.

Eddie’s tongue is now traveling up Richie’s throat, and he feels the other’s pulse point, and who could’ve thought licking someone’s heartbeat could be that _fucking hot?_ The tall boy’s blood is pounding to the rhythm of the seductive music, and Eddie may have just realized that this was no ordinary playlist. The fucker was setting the mood, and he knew it. Eddie was genuinely surprised that Richie wasn’t smug about the effect he produced. _Oh, baby, I think I wanted you before I knew what music was._

Eddie leaned back and looked at Richie’s face and _jesus h. christ._ He was in no way hot in the most typical bad-boy look, but he was insanely attractive in an underestimated dorky way, especially cheeks flushed on his pale skin, lips pouted, pupils merged with the irises, and if Eddie thought he was gone before, he was on _the whole another fucking planet by now._

The intensity with which Richie is looking all over his face, especially stopping at his lips is making Eddie’s balls tighten to an almost painful degree, but all he really wanted was to get his mouth on Richie, have him squirm and beg. _Oh, it_ _’_ _s been years. How do you think I_ _’_ _m going to make you feel?_

“What?” _Did I say that out loud?_ Richie’s face was probably mirroring Eddie’s, all confused, completely overwhelmed, unable to speak or listen at this point.

“What do you mean, what?” Eddie knew he was a cocky fucker, but he isn't dropping his confidence now.

“How are you going to make me feel?” _Shit, shit, shit._ Richie’s voice is thick and so much lower than Eddie has ever heard it, and he thinks he might’ve pre-orgasmed a little bit.

Skylar Grey’s _Jump_ is on, and Eddie is having the most difficult time of his life forming coherent sentences. The music is pounding into his ears, Richie’s dark eyes are not leaving his, those long fingers are digging into his thighs, and everything is so _thick_ with animal lust that Eddie feels like the dirtiest man in the world. _But, oh, does it feel good._

He decides to take matters into his own hands again and pushes Richie off to slide off the counter. Without so much as a glance back, he confidently walks towards his friend’s bedroom, grabbing the untouched mug on the way there. Eddie is sipping wine and walking down the corridor, and he even begins to worry a little until he hears Richie’s bare feet thudding against the wooden floor, and his heart is matching the rhythm – fast and irregular.

Eddie sets the mug down on the nightstand take his black shirt off, throwing it into the corner of the room. Richie walks in, probably much faster than he intended, and he is suddenly right in front of Eddie, looking down at him with dark orbs that could swallow them both whole straight into hell where Eddie’s dark thoughts belong. 

He faintly hears _Strange Times_ start playing and feels a surge of confidence again, turning a little to face the bed, knowing that Richie’s body would mirror his, and pushes the other’s chest, marveling at the tall boy’s surprised expression. Eddie leans on the other’s knees, bending down to be on the same level with Richie’s form propped up on the bony elbows.

“Rich, you seem overworked, do you need help relaxing?” Eddie knows how he sounds – like a porn star mixed with dark Christian Bale.

He practiced it many times but the heat never quite reached a peak for him to ever use it. With Richie, the heat seems almost too scalding for that voice, but it produces an effect nonetheless. The tall boy’s hips jerk ever so slightly and Eddie knows his smirk was more than smug. But he wasn’t exactly joking about exhaustion – Richie has circles under his eyes, and Eddie feels a surge of affection for his overworked 21-year-old best friend.

“I can help, you know. Do you know what I’m going to do?” 

Richie seems unable to speak, only angling his head a little in question. “Mm?”

“I’m going to suck you to sleep.”

Eddie drops down to his knees, parting Richie’s wide. He knew it was probably fucked up that they haven’t even kissed at that point but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, and it wasn’t strawberries and roses that lead them there. It was years of pent up sexual tension and heavy unprocessed red wine, and the entire vibe of Richie’s apartment that somehow collected everything in a messy ‘fuck me’ pile. 

Richie’s mouth is half-open now, and his expression would’ve been mistaken for fear if not for the fact that his eyes are raking over Eddie’s naked torso, making the other’s skin tingle with excitement. The small boy slowly drags the Henley up Richie’s stomach, and he _really_ wants to look him in the eye, but his gaze is dazedly fixated on the patch of hair leading to the tall boy’s white peeking boxers. Eddie visibly swallows.

He pops the button on Richie’s jeans because he absolutely _cannot_ waste any more time, and the zipper is still open, but he tries not to smile at that. Instead, one side of his mouth lifts up in a dirty smirk, and he drags Richie’s jeans down his thighs to long bare feet, squeezing his heels a little. Richie’s hips jerk a little again and if _that_ doesn’t pat Eddie’s ego on the back.

Eddie starts kissing the inside of Richie’s thighs and his skin smells and tastes so much better than he imagined – it’s sweet and salty at the same time, and something about it is so undeniably _Richie_ that it makes his chest tight. He starts nipping at the skin as he gets closer to the crotch, and a couple of hairs are caught in his mouth, but he doesn’t care one bit, removing them very quickly with his fingers before continuing. _Thank god he_ _’_ _s not the first Chewbacca I_ _’_ _m blowing._

_Dangerous Woman_ starts playing in the background, and Eddie’s stomach flips happily that one of his favorite songs is playing while he’s kissing around his best friend’s dick. Richie knows Eddie loves the song and when he finally lifts his head to look at him, the asshole is smiling, but not smugly, mostly dazedly, as if he’s in a dreamy haze.

“Eds…” Richie’s voice is heavy but warm, his expression strained as if he’s holding back a scream.

“Mmm?” asks Eddie, mirroring the other’s previous unspoken question.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Without answering, Eddie lifts an eyebrow and reaches into the hole in Richie’s white boxers to grab onto his dick, pulling it out through the opening. And the tall boy’s mouth opens in a surprised ‘O’, his eyes shutting half-way and he swallows, grabbing onto the sheets. Eddie is in pure ecstasy.

Richie is big even halfway out, and the arousal in the bottom of Eddie’s belly is overwhelming. The heat emanating from it is making Eddie’s mouth fill with saliva, and it’s so amazingly _right_ that he wants to scream. He looks down, shuddering at the image of the perfectly pink head of Richie’s cock and experimentally rubs a thumb on the slit, already wet.  

Richie’s elbows apparently lose all strength because he’s suddenly lying back, gripping the sheets, his stomach falling in occasionally from strained breath.

“Fucking hell…” It’s almost a whisper but Eddie hears it loud and clear, and he finally slides the boxers down all the way to the feet and starts to kiss around Richie’s crotch again.

This time instead of blind torture, he cups Richie’s balls and plays with them softly, and the whine that escapes Richie’s mouth is more than endearing. It’s a great encouragement, and Eddie suddenly presses his tongue flatly against the pink head that’s staring him straight in the face, and he blesses everything that’s holy because the way Richie’s dick is angled when it’s hard would hit him just right if they were fucking right now. _Holy hell._

Eddie doesn’t notice until then that he’s _rock-hard_ , but he’s so incredibly turned on, that he’s sure he’ll nut just from listening to Richie. The tall boy is a complete and utter _mess,_ moaning and squirming as Eddie is tasting his head, now taking it into his mouth, licking under and around it.

Eddie looks up a little bit and sees bits of sweat showing as a pretty line through the tall boy’s henley, and he wants to _squeal. I_ _’_ _m making him feel this shit!_ Instead of teasing him more, maybe because he was about to come in his pants too, he grabs Richie with his hand at the very bottom, reveling at how _thick_ he currently was from overstimulation. He decides to shock Richie out of his system and slides his mouth all the way down, feeling his dick hit the back of his throat and more. He quickly swallows to increase the pressure on it, squeezing the base a little.

“Oh, oh, oh, oooooohhhh, Eddie, Eddie, _oh my gooooood_.” _Oh, please, never stop talking._

Eddie can now feel Richie’s legs shaking, and he knows it’s his fault for teasing him for so long – the poor guy was about to nut from just one deep-throat. He was a fucking pro though so Eddie couldn’t blame him.

His soft mouth slowly slides down the length, and his lips are pressing just enough for their presence to be known, but he doesn’t make it overwhelming, mostly because he’s not familiar with Richie’s preferences. But he knows what _most_ guys like, what _he_ likes, so he improvises. 

Richie’s long arms finally find his hair, and Eddie smiles against his dick, surprised that it took him so long. He knows that the motion is automatic and he’s not surprised one bit when Richie pushes him a little more onto himself.

“E-Eddie, god, it’s a-all… all the dr… - _OH_.”

Eddie knows what he was going to say – all the dry swallowing throughout the years, and it’s the absolute truth, but Eddie is _so_ not letting him talk about his medications right now. So he does the only logical thing – he sucks on the head as if it was the sweetest lollipop, circling his tongue and pressing it right onto the slit. That seems to have the biggest effect on Richie, and he’s pleased to know that they both have the same sensitive spot. 

All the while, his hand starts jerking the tall boy off on the bottom, and the other joins in to fondle the balls, and he can just tell that Richie is _gone._ His speech is all ‘ _oh_ ’s and _ah_ ’s’ with the occasional soft moaning of Eddie’s name, and _shit,_ if hearing it in real life was so much better than in his daydreams.

Richie is close, Eddie can feel it in the sudden enlargement of his dick right through the middle, _how much bigger can this asshole get,_ and the way his veins seem to be bulging strenuously. Richie is completely quiet now, holding onto Eddie’s hair and the sheets, his breathing almost louder than _Tearing Me Up_ in the background. Eddie is _oh so glad_ that Richie is coming with one of his favorite songs in rhythm to his ragged heartbeat.

Eddie’s own jeans are practically exploding by then, and he rolls his hips against Richie’s leg quickly, feeling himself shudder with a sudden orgasm, realizing that he was _much_ closer than he anticipated. He notices that his hand suddenly tightens on the base of Richie’s cock as the waves of pure pleasure are hitting him, and he feels warm salty liquid hit his tongue. _If his come tastes this good all the time, I_ _’_ _m fucking proposing._

Eddie swallows the liquid down, pleases at how good Richie tastes for the 1000th time in his head, and leans against the other’s knee to catch his breath. He laughs softly at the realization of what transpired between them and just then notices that the hand that was almost ripping his curls out a minute ago was gone.

He lifts his head to look at Richie and snorts, seeing that the other is stone-cold _passed out._ Eddie gets up slowly and gently tugs Richie’s boxers back onto him, and then slides the jeans down his feet, throwing them in the corner where his shirt is. Richie doesn’t move, dead to the world, and Eddie leans down quickly to kiss him on the cheek. He covers him with half of the duvet and makes his way to the bathroom walking with his legs parted more than usual.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Richie wakes up to a pitch black room, the quiet of the apartment ringing in his ears a little bit. He rolls to the side and feels that his calves aren’t even on the bed and he furrows his brows sleepily, unsure of how he ended up there. About a second later, a memory of Eddie between his legs hits him, and he claps a hand to his mouth, giggling a little at the shock of what happened.

He sits up and doesn’t find jeans on him, so he just walks to the kitchen as is, looking for his phone on the counter next to the speaker. He finds it charging on the counter next to the sink and opens the Messages app.

 

**fav dickhead:** _suck and bolt? is this how it is, Eds_

He impatiently waits for longer than a minute for a response, looking around to see a sparkly clean kitchen.

 

**evil angel:** _I_ _’_ _m literally lying in your bathtub, you idiot. Want to join? ;)_

_Sweet jesus._

Richie grabs a bottle of red wine, and makes his way to the bathroom, thinking that some things never change and others happen overnight.

**Author's Note:**

> SMTS - Suck Me To Sleep
> 
> 100% inspired by that Jeremih's song  
> #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Lemme know if you want part deux.  
> And, honestly, comment anything and everything - it feeds my soul.


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